


behind each door a gleaming light

by lachesisgrimm (olga_theodora)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Breastfeeding, Breeding Kink, Cats, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Ghosts, Knitting, Marriage, Pregnancy, Reylo Baby, Varykino, an oddly numbered fic advent calendar, fic bonbons for various AUs, gingerbells, occasional minor angst, or random December calendar, shameless mixing of mythologies, specific TW in each chapter, the "big man knits tiny cat sweaters" instagram, whatever you are up to in December I hope every day is very good for you, winter/holiday vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:21:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 9,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28018410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olga_theodora/pseuds/lachesisgrimm
Summary: Fourteen short winter and/or winter holiday fics, one for each AU I've written. Specific trigger warnings (if needed) will be in the intro notes to each chapter, so not all tags reflect all fics.
Relationships: Finn/Rose Tico, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 494
Kudos: 290





	1. when the west wind moves: snow

**Author's Note:**

> Today's ficlet is from [when the west wind moves](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13520163/chapters/31012413), set after the epilogue. 
> 
> Specific TW: reylo baby, breastfeeding. 

His mother called Padmé a fussy baby, but Ben knew better. “Everything is new,” he murmured to his daughter in a private moment, her soft, dusky hair fluttering in the wake of his breath. “Everything has the capacity to be terrifying, doesn’t it?”

New people, the gas in her own tiny body, the very snow outside. His daughter needed a good cuddle, when new things were introduced. She rooted against Rey’s chest and his own, and her disappointment every time Ben couldn’t give her a comforting meal nearly shattered his fragile heart. 

“She doesn’t understand; she thinks tits are tits,” Rey said on one such occasion, giving his chest a playfully lascivious look that shifted to a wince when Padmé sleepily grunted at her breast. “Though sometimes I do wish Mé would gum on your nipples for a while.” 

He winced himself, feeling an echo of her discomfort through the bond. “I bought more of that salve at the market, yesterday.”

“Good.” She crooked a finger in a beckoning motion, and snuggled in as he took the place of the pillows behind her on their bed. Outside snow lazily fell under a moonlit sky, blanketing Varykino in white. Within the house was quiet, at least to their knowledge; the porgs were likely keeping warm in every room _except_ the one set aside for their use, and somewhere Varykino’s benevolent ghosts lingered, silent and unseen. Ben had the sense that he might dream of his grandmother, that night: cradling the child named in her honor, cooing over her round cheeks and teasing baby laughs from little Mé by tickling her stomach with gingerbell blooms.

“Do you remember,” Rey said softly, “our first snow at Varykino?”

A smile spread over his face as he curved a hand around the back of hers, both of them supporting their daughter’s head. “Which part? You proposing to me while we were both covered in dust, or learning that we would become a trio?”

“There was also our decision to have sex in every room of the house.”

He huffed a laugh against her hair, the strands scented with a floral note that reminded him of the meadow in high summer. “I think we’re still a few rooms short.”

“We have decades to finish that project.” Rey turned her head just enough to press a kiss to his jaw. “My water.” She sounded deeply content, her body warm and relaxed against his own. “She’s beginning to fall asleep.” 

Mé’s tiny fists were curled against Rey’s breast, her lashes fluttering and mouth sucking lazily as if by instinct alone. When Rey carefully burped her the only response was a grizzled whine. If either of them moved more she would rouse with a start and an indignant cry, but in ten minutes, perhaps twenty, they might be able to chance transferring her to the crib. 

“Falling asleep mid-meal, just like her mother,” Ben murmured teasingly, and was rewarded with a quiet snort. 

“ _Once._ ”

“When I tried to pry the spoon from your hand you nearly punched me.”

“You should have known better than to get between a scavenger and her food.” She kissed him a second time, lips lingering against his skin. “Tomorrow.”

“Hmm?”

“Tomorrow we check off that oddly-shaped nook on the third floor.”

He smiled, so in love with his unexpected second chance at life he almost ached, and stroked his free hand over the curve of her hip. “As you wish, desert girl.”


	2. purl two together: perks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during the epilogue of [purl two together](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15232011/chapters/35328483), after they marry but before Jane is born. 

Ben had been to London only once, and had not enjoyed the experience. At fourteen he had been more than tired of being sent hither and yon, bouncing from one family member to another every few months; even the opportunity to leave the country for the first time (his passport still crisp and new, the picture highlighting to an absurd degree the size of his ears) had been overshadowed by the sheer grind of traversing crowded, noisy airports and cramming himself into yet another plane seat, his knees practically up against his chest. That his mother was dragging him along in an attempt to mix business with bonding time had merely added to his annoyance; he had spent the majority of their time abroad slouching along behind her, awkwardly introducing himself to her colleagues. 

There had been one bright spot, that trip: a special textile exhibit at the British Museum, fragile embroidery and lace work displayed behind glass. He had spent half his spending money on postcards and an art book for his grandmother, and on his next visit Padmé had sat beside him on the couch, talking through the pictures as they both drank tea. She had knit him an aran sweater loosely based on one piece of vine-bedecked lace they both particularly liked, and he had worn that sweater until he outgrew it several years later.

Ben still had his grandmother’s hand-drawn chart for those twining cables. He would, he decided as Rey nearly plastered her nose to the tiny plane window, incorporate them into her next sweater. 

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly as they taxied to the gate. The furrow between her brows- a common sight, the past few days, as she contemplated her return to England after years away- was gone, to his relief, but she still wore an expression of vague unease. 

“I miss home already.” She sat back in her seat, reaching for his hand and lacing her fingers through his own. “Thank you for coming with me.” 

Ben leaned in, breathing in recycled air and the smell of her hair. “The cats are probably screaming.”

Rey grinned, the first smile he had seen from her since boarding the plane. “Poor Dop.”

“Poor Dop,” he agreed, pressing a kiss against her temple. “Though Bastila has a soft spot for him.”

“And you left a container of chocolate pudding for him in the fridge.” Her toes nudged at his ankle. “From _scratch._ ”

Ben- whispering with his lips against the upper curve of her ear, and in a manner better befitting some great secret- imparted, “I also left beef stew and chicken and dumplings in the freezer.”

“ _Lucky_ Dop.” She unfastened her seat belt and nestled into his side, the chair arm long ago folded away. Around them the other passengers prepared to disembark, but they were a quiet, contemplative island. “Do you think Finn will like the color?” Rey asked softly, a little of her nerves creeping back into her voice. 

“I think you chose a lovely red.” A cashmere blend, and she had fretted over every stitch of the scarf and hat. “We’re going to have fun, I promise.” 

“Hmm.” She chuckled, nose wrinkling playfully. “Fun visiting every yarn shop within the bounds of London, and filling the empty space in your suitcase with indie sock yarns and skeins of worsted bearing the name and picture of the contributing sheep on the tag.”

He hid his grin against her hair. “Four, Rey. We’re visiting four yarn shops.” 

She drummed her fingers on his thigh, tone still teasing. “Says the man who blocked off an afternoon on our schedule and refused to give me details. A yarn orgy is in the works.”

Ben toyed with her wedding ring, thumb slipping over warm gold. “The Faraday Museum.”

Rey shifted in her seat, turning to face him with a wide-eyed gaze. “What?”

“One of the curators follows the cats’ instagram. She’s going to give us a special tour, show us some of the backstage aspects.” 

For a long moment Rey was silent, and then she reached out to cup his face, saying in a low, serious voice, “You traded on our cats’ middling internet fame for perks, Ben?”

Keeping his face straight he replied, “Shamelessly.”

Her snorting, excited laugh was a gift in itself. 

They were the last to leave the plane, joining the stragglers with hands clasped. That evening- jet-lagged and starving, running on caffeine fumes- they met Finn for dinner at a nearby pub, Rey nearly lifting the other man off his feet in a tight hug with a teary, happy smile on her face. 

Outside snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky, just beginning to stick on the wreaths across the way.


	3. walk the halls (climb up the walls): a midwinter nap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between the last chapter and the epilogue of [walk the halls (climb up the walls)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15724410/chapters/36554886). No TW here, but mind the tags if you decide to read the original fic!

They spent their first Christmas quietly, at home. Ruwee had come over for dinner on Christmas Eve (bearing with her a litter of catnip mice, which were scattered all over the cottage come morning), but the day itself was pajamas and pancakes, the fireplace lit and the lights on the tree a gentle glow. 

“I dreamed of the house, last night,” Rey admitted drowsily mid-day, sleet pattering against the windows. “But it was- it was different.”

The reminder did not bring the panic it once had; with the place in ashes Ben could breathe through the ache that, day by day, much like a bruise, diminished in increments. It was not a topic she would bring up casually, and so he cuddled her closer, the hot chocolate at his elbow growing cold. In front of the fireplace Bebe sprawled, belly up and tail twitching. “How so?”

“It was like I was inside a ghost of the place. I could see through the walls, the floors. The spirits weren’t there anymore, but traces of them lingered.” She sighed quietly, mournfully. “That house should have been so good. It should have been a shelter.”

“Many people wanted it to be,” he murmured. 

“Instead it was a lovely trap.” She sighed again, resting her head against his chest. “You still dream of it, don’t you?”

“I think I always will.” He pressed a kiss to her hair, marveling in the one precious gift the house had unwittingly given him after so much tragedy. “But now I wake up to you.”

“And I wake up to you.” One of her hands slipped under his t-shirt, cool fingers resting against his side, and when she spoke again her tone had shifted to low, playful teasing. “Usually with you nuzzling my neck and eager to be husbandly.”

“I seem to recall just this morning you wriggled that pretty ass of yours against my cock with a happy little ‘please’,” he teased in return, letting the remembrance of bad times fade away in favor of the wonder that was his wife curled up against him. 

“You’ve addicted me to sleepy morning sex.” She rubbed the tip of her nose against the skin just above his collar, humming contentedly. “You smell good. You always smell good.”

She smelled like his shampoo, his soap, the flowery notes of the perfume she had put on that morning for no reason other than the pleasure of it. He loved the smell of her then just as he loved the scent of her skin after hours at work, all wood dust and sweat and salt air. “I’m glad you think so.” 

“My favorite pillow.” Rey lightly tickled his side, giving him a hopeful look. “If I take a nap right here, will you get bored?”

After a quick check of his phone (the roast in the crockpot would cook a few more hours yet; the sides wouldn’t take too much time) he reached for the book propped against the side of the couch. “Not at all.” 

They shifted, her settling more comfortably and him propping one foot up on a nearby hassock after tugging a blanket over them both. The necklace he had given her for Christmas slipped from beneath her over-sized sweater, puddling against his chest. “Wake me up in an hour?” she asked in a mumble. 

He curved an arm over her back, tangling his fingers in the ends of her hair. “Pinky swear.”

She slept and- lulled by her even breathing, the warmth of the room- so did he, with no dreams to disturb their midwinter nap. Unknown to them both a spirit lingered briefly beside them, dark hair cascading in curls over her shoulder as she smiled down at the slumbering pair.

Only Bebe saw, and Bebe- who rather liked the new ghosts, who often told her just how pretty and good and clever she was- blinked slowly and purred, paws kneading at the air.


	4. your name (twine it with mine): flying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place between the last chapter and epilogue of [your name (twine it with mine)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16943019/chapters/39813090). 
> 
> TW: A/B/O

“Don’t these come pre-assembled?” Poe cursed under his breath when the screwdriver slipped from his hand to the ground. “By experts, even, who’ve put together a million swing-sets and will put together a million more before they go to that big home improvement store in the sky.”

“I wanted to do it myself.” Though Ben hadn’t quite thought through the difficulties of setting it up in the snow, with a time-frame of only a few hours. “Are you done with that side yet?”

“Yes, oh cardamom cookie of dreams.”

When Ben glared at him Poe shrugged, not at all perturbed by his ire. “I heard her tell Rose, once. She wants to eat you up, man.”

“Poe.”

“I mean, I guess she does on a fairly regular basis, being mated and all.”

“Sit on the damn swing and test it.”

“Ah.” Poe sighed dramatically, dropping onto the seat and clasping the chains. “So I am to be the sacrifice if this thing collapses.” He looked up at the beam overhead, adding in a much more normal voice, “Seems pretty sturdy, though. How many safety reports did you read before picking this one?”

A half-dozen, at least, but Ben kept that particular fact unspoken. He considered the scene carefully as Poe began to pump his legs (“This is actually kind of calming,” his cousin said after a moment, the arc growing wider), idly kicking snow away from the frozen grass underfoot. Two swings side by side, sturdy wood and green rubber seats and shining chains. The ideal swing-set, as best he could tell- and Rey, who had admitted once in a wistful voice that she had always wanted one of her own- deserved exactly that. 

“There was a park,” she had said. “Near Plutt’s. I would sneak there sometimes in the middle of the night-”

_How old?_ he had wanted to ask, feeling a pinch of panic at the idea of small, young Rey slipping through the dark alone and unprotected. 

“-and I would swing.” She had laughed a little, snuggling close under the sheets. “The moon looked so snatchable at the top of the arc that I made up a story about being a space pirate. Flying between the stars, stealing lost treasure, dueling adversaries.”

“Steal me,” he had said without quite thinking of the implications, and Rey’s eyes had somehow gone both soft and feral in the moment before she had clamped her hands around his head, pulling him in for a fierce kiss. 

He’d give her whatever she wished, and a swing-set, no matter how much bother, was a small matter in the scheme of things. She smelled like lemon pie, his Rey, and like life and love and sex and every good thing he had ever chanced upon, and if she wanted to sail to the moon he would get her as close as humanly possible. 

Poe (uninjured) left with a quip and a six-pack of his favorite beer. Rey came home late, flushed with the cold and laughing over the movie she had seen with Rose. She ran for him on sight, jumping up into his arms and burying her face into the crook of his neck. “Hi.”

Her nose was an ice cube against his skin, her scent subdued by the chill. On any other evening he would peel her coat away, wrapping her in a blanket and rubbing warmth back into her hands- doing so, though, would risk an early morning discovery before he woke, and the moon was so beautifully full that night. “Five minutes?” he asked quietly. “Can you spare five minutes in the backyard, sweetheart?”

She gained her feet the moment he began to shift her, giving him a quizzical look. “The backyard?”

“Just a little time.” Ben drew her toward the back door, looping an arm around her waist. “The stars are beautiful.”

The stars, and Rey’s face when she saw the Christmas lights hung on the back porch, the shoveled path through the snow, the swing-set bearing a bright red bow. Her breathed “Oh, Ben,” and the clutch of her hand in his sweater. 

“You can fly as high as you like, and whenever you like,” he murmured into the knit of her hat, giving her a quick hug. She was all lemon bars, at that moment, covered with powdered sugar he could almost taste on his tongue. 

Rey laughed unsteadily, tears trickling down her cheeks, and covered her face with her hands. “ _Ben._ ” 

He kept silent, though _do you like it?_ hovered on his tongue. Instead he waited, watched as she scrubbed the back of her gloves under her eyes, and was rewarded when she threw her arms around him. “ _Thank you._ ”

She was smiling, slipping away toward the cleared steps, and when he said “Dinner is ready when you are,” she looked back at him with an expression incandescent with joy. 

“Five minutes,” Rey said, and ran toward the swings.


	5. choose you which you please: an arch of swords

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after [choose you which you please](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17735414). 
> 
> TW: breeding kink

“I don’t quite understand the theme,” his mother said, a puzzled smile on her face as she watched Rey dash by, dagger sleeves trailing and sword at her hip, “but this might be the most entertaining wedding I’ve ever been to. Including my own, which is something considering the shenanigans Lando and Luke got into during the reception.”

Ben, glass of wine in hand and gaze pinned on his new bride, murmured, “Yes, I’ve heard that story.”

“You’re wearing a doublet, Ben.”

He smoothed a hand over black embroidered velvet, smirking. “Yes.”

“You left the wedding under an arch of swords provided by a bunch of elves.”

“Yep.”

“Poe has introduced himself to everyone as ‘His Lordship, the Stormbringer of Yavin’.”

“He’s very proud of that title.”

From the corner of his eye he saw her consider him closely, glance over at Rey, and then pick up her own wine glass. “Will you be naming my grandchildren Arwen and Boromir?”

He did look away from Rey, at that, and purposefully kept his face blank. “Classic names, Mom.” 

She was struggling, he could tell, between joy at the mere idea of grandchildren and the hassle of hollering _Arwen Chewbacca Solo_ out her back door. Ben- a little tipsy, and more than a little in love with furthering her annoyance- continued with “Actually, we’re considering Buttercup and Westley.”

His mother blinked, at an uncharacteristic loss for words, and in the ensuing silence he leaned in to peck a kiss against her cheek. “Going to dance with my wife before she skewers Poe.”

Rey was very amenable to being pulled into his arms, and even more so to being danced to a far exit and swept into a hall. “Stealing me away?”

“I-”

He pressed her against a shadowy corner, the music and noise of their reception a distant, raucous echo. “-have conquered a kingdom and desire my prize.”

With a slow, naughty grin she took hold of his doublet. “Do you?”

He pressed his forehead against hers, taking a moment to breathe. “Yes.”

Rey made a little hum, her lips brushing over his own, and then her foot snaked between his legs and she was shoving him against the wall. “I think I have the sword.”

If he truly wanted he could pluck Rey off her feet, toss her over his shoulder and simply carry her away to a supply closet or even their car, ending the reception on a very dramatic note. Instead he touched his fingertips to her chin, tilting her face up further toward his own. “Planning on taking your spoils of war, wife?”

“Hmm.” She grinned, hands slipping around to grab his ass. “You’ll give me a strong child, won’t you?”

“Several.”

“In any position I want.”

“You have only to command, lady.”

She made a quiet, satisfied sound, fingernails digging into the cloth of his trousers. “In that case, I want your head between my legs- and then, after, I want you to press my face against the sheets and fuck me hard.” She kissed him gently, softly, in stark contrast to the grip of her hands and the way he strained against her, his breath hot against her temple. “Can you do that, Ben?”

“ _Yes,_ sweetheart.”

Rey met his gaze, her expression so open, so loving, that he nearly came to tears. “That’s my sweet husband,” she murmured, and reached up to lightly trace one of his ears. “Now stoop, a little, so I can bite your earlobe.”


	6. light carries on endlessly: aurora

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after [light carries on endlessly](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19241152). Beware shameless mixing of mythologies. 

She had never before seen snow, and she’d never seen such light dancing in the sky, all blues and greens and brilliance. Rey dashed a few steps ahead, pace slowed by the cold, wet stuff clinging to her skirts and furs, the strings of black pearls loosely braided in her hair glancing against her cheeks. Within sight a massive fortress waited, but it was the sky that held her attention no matter that her feet were slowly growing numb. “How?”

“The shields.” Her husband stopped at her back, a bank of heat she was intimately familiar with. “Those beautiful, glorious shields that even my mother’s smiths could never hope to replicate.”

There was nothing but admiration in Ben’s voice as he wrapped himself around her. Even her toes seemed to warm a little in her thick boots, and when he pressed a kiss to her hair she turned in his embrace, losing sight of the rippling colors. “She’s here?”

“She’s here.” He was smiling as he gathered her close, smiling as he kissed her as thoroughly as if they were in their own bed. Ben smiled a great deal, with her- and judging by some things Mitaka and Ben’s own mother had said, smiled a little bit more at others _because_ of her. He also had, Rey noticed with a dazed grin once the kiss ended, Cerberus’ fur on his robes. 

“And I,” Ben continued in a tone that indicated he himself was a little lost, a little distracted, “am allowed inside for your sake and your sake only.”

“Ah.” She almost purred the drawn-out syllable, and judging by his expression the effort was not lost on him. “Then until you say otherwise, Ben-”

And Rey could tell in the flicker of amusement in his eyes, the quirk of his mouth, that he knew _exactly_ what she was doing. “I’m not allowed to leave you?” he interrupted teasingly, hands slipping under her cloak to the fine wool weave of her gown. “I’m bound to you?”

“As thoroughly as any soul in my keeping.” She lifted to her toes, kissing him lightly. “The light shimmers over your hair.”

“Does it?”

“Hmm.” She slipped her gloved fingers through the silken strands, watching as he gleamed. Her beautiful Ben, her _sweet_ Ben. Her beloved husband, so long alone in the underworld- but hers, now, and she would see him safe and cared for by any means possible. “Take me in.”

The Valkyries sparred in the main courtyard, their shields reflecting starlight and a glow all their own as the armor-clad warriors swerved and bent and struck. They were a sight Rey once had only dreamed of, when she had labored in the vineyards with scarcely a moment to call her own and no future- and one, just within sight, had once slept on the pallet next to hers. She stopped in her tracks, fingers clenching tight in Ben’s robes, and he ran a caressing hand down her hair. 

Rose, clad in finely-wrought armor and wielding a sword as if she had done so since her first toddling steps, caught sight of Rey and jumped away from her partner, making for them both at a sprint. Rey remembered her as shadow-eyed and thin-lipped, but this Rose was smiling and rosy-cheeked, and as she ran her partner (the same eyes, the same smile, Rey realized with astonishment) swaggered out of the line of sparring pairs and grinned. _Paige._

Rose catapulted into Rey, and for several long minutes they could only cry and laugh, two friends as close as sisters and separated for far too long. 

When Rey next caught a glimpse of Ben he was watching her with a soft smile on his face, tears trickling openly down his cheeks.


	7. the world shifts (and I am better here): roses and gingerbells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after [the world shifts (and I am better here)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17330606/chapters/40772420). Surprise Anidala!

The forest still held a spirit, but it no longer wept on the darkest nights. It no longer snatched the unwary out after dark, it no longer hunted- unless, of course, someone entered bearing ill-will toward those the forest protected. The trees took the last sympathizers of the false king who tried to find the village safeguarded deep within the bounds. They took the bandits- the ones who enjoyed marauding, who stole for more than survival- that tried to set up camp past the tree-line. 

There had been many of those, in the first several years after the spirit’s daughter regained her throne. They had thought the curse broken, the forest safe. They had been wrong, and many of them had seen the spirit of Anakin Skywalker in the moments before they died, eyes leaf-green and skin akin to bark. Some had escaped as a warning, and they took with them the story of the tree god who dragged living men beneath the earth for daring to step into the forest with malice in mind. 

A few still came- the foolish ones- but what had been a brief flood slowed to a trickle. The trees soaked in sunlight and rain, the foliage grew, the seasons passed. Anakin, more forest than man, sank into the abundance of time no longer wrapped up in mourning. When he walked between the trees he felt the strength of their roots, when he saw the stars he absorbed their glimmer, and the part of him that remembered thought of other walks in other woods and of gazing at constellations with the soft curve of a woman’s waist under his hand. He was waiting, he knew, for something; had been waiting ever since he had given his grandson’s wife a bundle of seeds- and one winter evening (as a star streaked across the sky, and the villagers, no longer afraid of the dark, danced and sang away the longest night) something came: a path, a side-step that smelled of roses not his own. 

She was there, when he took what was offered. She was there, waiting on a patch of sleeping earth and surrounded by stone and metal. It had been a long time since he had seen a garden, dormant or otherwise, but that was of no account when everything important was _her_. 

Padmé touched him, spirit to spirit, fingers warm against his cheek. “Ani.”

He kissed the wife once lost to him as a second star fell overhead, the willow fronds in his hair brushing against her cheeks, and some part of him knew that within the palace their daughter laughed and their son peacefully read and their grandson told stories to three children, the woman who had saved them all curled up at his side. They all breathed, hearts beating, and Anakin (more man than forest) felt an echo of that half-forgotten rhythm in his own chest. 

He brushed a curl from his beloved’s face and smiled, and where they went only they knew. 

“There are two spirits in the forest,” the storytellers would one day say. “You can see them walking, hand in hand.”


	8. messages, gone astray: christmas crackers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after [messages, gone astray](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20898599). Please use the creator skin!
> 
> TW: pregnancy

Ben  
  
**Today** 6:15 PM  
Ben  
Ben  
Ben ben ben  
**Today** 6:17 PM  
Sweetheart, I’m just across the room.  
  


Rey looked up, meeting her husband’s gaze as he pushed the pink paper crown on his dark hair back, expression a little rueful. He was not fond of Leia’s love of Christmas crackers (“I swear she clears out World Market every year,” he had muttered to her at their first Christmas dinner, a neon kazoo between his fingers), but he still tolerated his mother’s whims.

Rey loved him for that- for wearing the crown, for popping open those paper tubes, for blowing on the damn whistles- but she had a glorious secret barely two hours old and it was eating her whole.

Ben  
  
**Today** 6:18 PM  
I NEED TO TALK TO YOU  
Kitchen?  
  


He moved and his uncle caught his arm, lips moving quick as he talked about the hell knew ( _vegan cheese,_ Rey thought uncharitably, for all that she rather _liked_ Luke).

 _I should have told him before we left,_ she groused for the dozenth time, even knowing that her reasoning for not doing so (they would have ended up in bed, they never would have made it to the party, they had _promised_ Leia they would be on time and bring pies) had made sense at the time. She would be patient, Rey had told herself. She would save her secret for Christmas morning, when it was just the two of them cozy over breakfast with the tree lights glowing. She would be _serene._

She was, instead, a little nauseous, and as much as she loved his family more than a little weary of chatting and smiling and sipping at unspiked eggnog. She wanted to go home and curl up in bed, her husband warm against her back and murmuring something soothing into her hair. 

She wanted to cry, actually, which was very inconvenient and seemed to have snuck up on her midway through a plate of little cocktail pickles, meltingly sweet cookies brought by Maz, and crackers spread with bits of curry cheeseball. Rey crunched down on one of the pickles and- when she sensed that Grandma Padmé’s gaze had fallen on her from across the room (and she knew, she _knew;_ Padmé knew everything and Rey loved her so much)- Rey slipped away toward the kitchen with a cheery smile and her phone tucked under her arm, abandoning the plate the moment she was out of sight. The kitchen was empty, at that moment, all dirty dishes and half-finished bottles of wine. She rolled up her sleeves and began to tidy up, scrubbing and sorting in a way she only did when she had too many thoughts on her mind. 

Ben joined her halfway through, taking a newly washed pot from her hands and setting it to drain on the full to bursting rack. “You wanted a word, sweetheart?” he asked quietly, bending toward her- but then his father entered, still laughing at a joke made in the living room. 

Hurriedly drying her hands on a dish towel, heart in her throat, Rey picked up her phone.

Ben  
  
**Today** 6:31 PM  
I’m pregnant  


There was no ding, no betraying buzz of a phone set on silent. There was, however, a strangled, barely audible sound from Leia in the living room, and Rey frantically checked her phone to make sure she hadn’t yet again sent a very important text to the wrong person. She hadn’t, but the superficially calm “Rey?” she heard from her mother-in-law told the rest of the story. He had left his phone on a table, and her text had flashed up in bright, crisp letters for anyone to see.

Speechless (how was this her life?), Rey turned her phone screen toward Ben- who flicked a gaze toward it, and then blinked, and then sucked in a breath. “Really?” he asked in a whisper, ignoring his father rummaging through the fridge just feet away. 

Rey nodded, licking her lips nervously. The pregnancy was planned- or stopping birth control had been mutually agreed upon, at the very least, and maybe he had changed his mind but never told her or maybe-

She was off her feet before she really knew what was happening, wrapped tightly in Ben’s arms and her phone clattering to the floor. He was breathing hard into her hair and trembling, a hand hooked under her ass; her best and most beloved option was to wrap her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, holding on for dear life. 

“Uh.” Han sounded a little confused, and more than a little amused. “You okay, kids?”

“Yeah,” Ben managed in a tight, teary voice that ended on a sob. 

“Okay.” Rey heard a few steps toward the door, and then a casual, “If neither of you are up for driving, the guest room is made up.”

Then he was gone. Alone for a few precious seconds, at least, Rey murmured, “Are you happy?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Ben was certainly crying, but there was suddenly a laugh there, too, and he was pressing frantic kisses against her hair. “I’m ecstatic.”


	9. a shell (a home): three for three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after [a shell (a home)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21723733/chapters/51819904). 

At the first hint of his laugh Rey tipped her face up toward him, mouth curled in an inquisitive smile. She was still flushed from dancing raucously with Finn and Rose, a few strands of hair fluttering loose around her face, and for a moment the urge to kiss her in the middle of their swaying slow number was almost greater than his urge to share. 

Almost. “Maz has someone else in her sights,” he murmured with a conspiratorial grin, tugging her a little closer. She had been nearly eye to eye with him, at the beginning of the wedding; now with her heels abandoned at their table she was back to being eye-level with his collarbone. Lifting the hand he held to his mouth, he brushed his lips over the knuckles of her right hand. “Jannah’s sister, I think.” 

“Really?” She raised a brow. “Dip me.”

He did so with dramatic flair, one arm banded securely around her back and aiming her directly at the scene in question: Jannah’s sister, and Maz with a hand clamped firmly around the wrist of some man Ben did not know but vaguely recognized as sitting on Kaydel’s side of the church. Both of Maz’s chosen pair seemed pleased to be brought into the other’s orbit.

“She’s unstoppable,” Rey said when he brought her back up, a new strand of hair curving against her cheek. 

“She’s on a winning streak.” The newly married pair danced by them, Kaydel looking dreamily up into Jannah’s eyes. He bent his head, kissing his own wife softly. “Three for three.”

The song ended, segueing somewhat smoothly into a bouncy pop hit, and with a laugh Rey ducked from under his arm with a bop and a shimmy. Grabbing his hand she tugged him off the floor, stocking feet slipping a little on the smooth wood, and Ben- more than a little captivated by the curve of her ass under her form-fitting green dress- followed with alacrity. “You know,” he said casually in a low voice after she plopped down into her chair, “we could slip away at any time.”

They had a room upstairs, after all, one free of an opinionated cat yowling at the closed bedroom door. Under her dress Rey wore black lace and a garter belt, and Ben was quite ready to strip her out of every stitch. 

Rey shot him a mischievous look, knowing full well what he was thinking. “They haven’t cut the cake, yet.”

“Fair point.” He slid a single fingertip down her arm. “It’s almost our anniversary.”

She arched a teasing brow. “We married in June.”

“Ah, but I proposed at Christmas.” He winked, nudging at her foot with the tip of his shoe. “The first time.”

“I _could_ lock you out of the house tomorrow and let you recreate the moment,” she mused in a grave, considering tone, though her expression was mischievous. “Shirtless, of course.” 

“That would be accurate,” he agreed, voice equally grave. “I could even carry you back to the tiny house… after warming it up and putting fresh sheets on the bed, of course.” Ben leaned in, dropping his voice even lower lest someone overhear. “I could show you _exactly_ what I wanted to do to you that night, sweetheart.” 

Her cheeks pinkened, and under cover of the table her hand found his knee, fingertips sweeping along the inseam of his pants. “You’ve got a deal.”


	10. count the rings: wassail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between the last chapter and epilogue of [count the rings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20209138/chapters/47888974).

“I’m not sure I’ve ever actually seen mistletoe in real life,” Dop said with quiet amusement from his spot beside Kylo, a mug of steaming wassail in hand and a smudge of Maz’s lipstick still on his cheek. “Nor have I ever received such a lovely Christmas card. Your calligraphy is exceptional.”

Kylo lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug, allowing himself a smile. “That was how my mother taught me… and I have fond memories of family Christmases.” Across the room his wife, perched on a hassock and bereft of just such fond memories, laughed with Maz (his kin, a fact he was still warmed by) as she sipped at champagne, the candlelight flickering over her features and hair. There were no electric lights lit in the room, save the tree lights, and while the tree itself (real but rooted in a large tub so that it might be planted after the holiday, for neither of them could stomach cutting down a pine for such a frivolous reason) was a vision of modernity, the candles, the lit fire, the real fir branches gracing the mantelpiece were reminiscent of his own childhood. 

“You seem to have settled in quickly,” Dop noted in his mild way, inviting instead of demanding confidences. Kylo could make a bland comment about the price of stamps and Dop wouldn’t blink an eye, but they were close enough that he answered honestly, voice low. 

“Buying the house, moving- the work of a moment, really.” And necessary in its own way; the apartment was no longer a happy place for either of them. He couldn’t look at the bathtub without remembering Rey plunged under bubbling water, hands thrashing, nor could he relax in their bedroom without thinking of how her rings had blown the furniture to matchsticks. Even knowing that he was still human didn’t make him feel safe about the amount of holy water and blessings thrown around. Better to have a blank slate for the both of them, and he found that he loved touching his fingertips to the little chart labeled _Cassie_ every time he left the kitchen. Others had been happy in this house, and he and Rey would be and were, as well. “But I think we’re still a bit…”

He paused, considering carefully. “Shaken.”

“Understandably.”

Kylo caught Rey’s gaze, feeling his momentarily grave expression soften at the sight of her smile. She had been the one to suggest he plan the party to his tastes (“If you like,” she had said after finding blank Christmas cards of the type his mother used to send out on his desk, delicate pieces of art that he had created from will and memory. “Unless you’d prefer a quiet holiday.”), and though their guests were few he was glad that he had gone along with her idea. Dop and Maz were excellent company, and if their relationship with Poe was a little bruised it was still good to see him in their new living room, Finn asleep on one shoulder and Rose teasingly dangling a sprig of mistletoe over their heads. It had been nice, too, to prepare some of the recipes his family had once enjoyed- roast goose, the Nesselrode pudding his mother had loved, the wassail that had been prepared even during their leanest of years. 

The candlelight had been a whim. Modern electricity was very convenient, but he felt a little less out of time in the shifting shadows- and he liked the way Rey in her sweater and jeans and reindeer socks looked in the soft glow, her newest ring on her right hand. 

“How many oysters have you ransacked?” she had asked with drowsy pleasure that morning as he slipped the pearls on her finger, a crease on one cheek and her voice blurry. “They must live in fear of you.” 

“Kylo Ren, dread predator of oysters.” He had brushed her hair back from her face, smiling a little. “You need a necklace, I think. I’d like to see you in just pearls.”

“Mmm.” She had tugged at his shirt, lifting up the blankets in invitation. “Come here and tell me about it.”

Rey spotted him still looking at her and winked, lifting the flute to her lips just as Maz said something that left her sputtering. Finn began to faintly snore, Rose laughed, Poe (smiling, a little teary) held both their hands at once. Beside him Dop settled more comfortably into his chair, offering companionably “I’m thinking of getting a dog.”

It was lovely, this life, and there was still so much of it to come. “Perhaps,” he teased, “I could arrange for a hell-hound.”


	11. we will all the pleasures prove: honey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set before [we will all the pleasures prove](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24574882) and [along the lake shore (hand in hand)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25861603). 

They both took off their shoes before starting along the beach. “I like that you write romance,” Rey said as they began, as he consciously shortened his stride and she lengthened hers and they awkwardly vied at a walk. Only three dates in and Ben already knew that she was it, for him, and he had to bite his lower lip to keep himself from exhaling a sincere _thank God._ “I enjoy your books.”

“You’ve read them?” he asked, hearing a note of heartfelt need to please in his voice and wondering if she heard it as well. 

“Two.” She slid him a look, nose crinkling as she smiled. “I have a few others on hold at the library. You have a gift, Ben.”

His mother had such much the same, her own smile bemused; his father had muttered a compliment half into the Falcon’s engine. Luke had just laughed. “Writing happy endings makes me feel…”

Ben hesitated, then shook his head. “Happy,” he murmured, feeling heat blaze along his cheeks as his vocabulary failed him. 

“Happy is good.” Rey’s hand slipped unexpectedly into his, and she either intentionally or accidentally hip-checked him. “Sometimes happy feels like the rarest fucking thing on the planet.”

There was a note to her voice- sad, stressed, bleak- that gave him the confidence to caress the well of her palm with his thumb. He’d do more, if she would let him; would love her senseless against his sheets and feed her breakfast in bed if that appealed to her. “I know.”

Her “Do you?” was almost… almost hopeful. Shy, though Rey had been anything but shy in his experience. She was bright and reckless, all sharp edges and closed doors even as she accepted his initial offer of a date and suggested a second after they finished the dregs of their coffee. She was a mystery, Rey, and Ben wanted to learn every layer of her, each secret silent on his tongue. 

“My parents consider bantering a love language.” He squeezed her hand gently. “Which works for them, but I always found the experience difficult.”

“Loud?”

They stopped on the wet lip of sand, foam lapping at their bare toes. Rey looked up at him, the enamel holly leaves dangling from her ears catching in her hair. “My-”

She hesitated, then forced out, “My foster parents were usually loud, when they argued.” Her mouth firmed and then bent into an uncannily bright, apologetic smile that made him want to confront the person or persons who had forced her to learn and adopt just such an expression. “About me.”

“You?”

“Me.” That smile disappeared, leaving her standing emotionally bare in front of him under a gray sky. “Me… me burying my apple seeds. My plum pits. Messing up their lawn trying to plant flowers.”

When his hand made contact with her back (and the knit of her flowery dress; she always looked like a summer meadow in bloom even as everything around them was all Christmas lights and wrapped gifts and reindeer) she trembled, just a little, but her immediate step toward him and the stubborn clasp of her hand in his shirt-front was a reassurance. She wanted him, that much was clear, even if she still hesitated on the cautious divide between claiming and not. “I’ll give you a garden,” he offered, his entire heart in the words. “An orchard. Rows of-”

Rey kissed him, on that Florida beach, cool surf surging over their feet and a breeze catching at their clothing, a hint of honey on her tongue. Their first kiss but not their last, because Ben could see the multitude of kisses ahead of them and the roots they would plant. 

He called his grandmother the next day and asked for the family ring.


	12. silk and lace (i'll keep you warm): numbered drawers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after [silk and lace (i'll keep you warm)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26184577). 

The cabinet was a large, beautifully crafted thing, clearly from the hands of some master woodworker and likely costing the earth. “And here I was expected some chocolates,” Rey did her best to tease, though in reality the sheer scope of Ben’s thoughtfulness had her on the verge of tears. 

He wrapped his arms around her from behind, planting a kiss against her crown. “You asked for an advent calendar.”

“Last I checked that meant thin cardboard and milk chocolate in the vague shape of presents.” Or that had been Rey’s experience the one time she had been given an advent calendar as a child. That had been a good Christmas, as she ranked them- chocolate everyday, books the morning of, and a cat who spent every night at the foot of her bed. One of Rey’s best Christmases, really, and so she had shared the memory nostalgically with her husband. The result was the gleaming tree-shaped cabinet in front of her, antique knobs just begging to be pulled. 

“I enjoy spoiling my wife.” Ben sounded very satisfied with himself, and she couldn’t blame him. He was very good at spoiling. “I picked every gift.”

“And how many are wedding gowns?”

He chuckled quietly, a hand curving over her hip, and murmured in her ear “I couldn’t make any fit.”

“Lingerie, then?” she asked playfully, breaking from his hold to reach for the drawer labeled _one._ “How many of these are actually gifts for both of us?”

His smile was soft when she looked over her shoulder, her fingers closed around a fleur de lis. There was a hint of color in his cheeks, pink spreading to his ears. “They’re gifts for you,” he insisted shyly- and drawer one held the softest, prettiest flannel pajamas she had ever seen, the green fabric full of twining flowers. “For you,” he murmured again when she sniffled, dipping to kiss her neck. “Only for you, sweetheart.”

There were expensive chocolates on nights two and ten (different chocolatiers, and each piece a taste of joy), the licorice she loved and he hated on night five, a massage gift certificate night seven and a cashmere scarf night eight. A purse she had coveted but never dared buy, even knowing she could afford it, night three. Curling tickets, books, an IOU for the pet of her choice. She cried over that one, hugging him tightly, and he made her tea afterward and encouraged her to scroll through the pictures on the local humane society page. 

A handwritten poem that she later framed and that he gasped into her ear that night in bed, clumsy rhymes made all the better by the thrust of his hips and the way his soft lips wrapped around every syllable. Small minis of her favorite perfumes and a beautiful ceramic bowl to hold them, because he knew that she enjoyed the luck of the draw as she got ready in the morning. 

Jewelry, too- earrings, rings set with raw stones, a necklace strung with a single pearl. A note night seventeen that directed her to the fridge, where the most wonderful cheese and charcuterie plate she had ever seen in her life waited with a bottle of chilled champagne. Rollerblades night twelve, because she had mentioned once that she had always wanted to learn but never had the chance- and the day after, he held her hand as she wobbled around the driveway, wearing helmet and knee pads. 

Thoughtful gifts every single night, and every night Ben tucked her close and smiled smugly. When she opened the last drawer on Christmas Eve and found a first edition of _Persuasion_ he breathed a satisfied “For you, love,” into her hair as she stared unbelieving at the treasure in her hands. 

It wasn’t until that they were in bed- both sleepy, Rey’s mind fuzzed with two strong orgasms- that she giggled against his chest and muttered “We had similar ideas, you know.”

“Did we?”

She propped herself up on one elbow, tickling his stomach and thinking of her own ridiculously large closet that was so very easy to hide things in. “Just different time tables.”

“You didn’t have to buy me anything.”

“Hmph.” Tired though she was, she sat up and swung a leg over him, settling over his hips. “Surely you’ve heard of the twelve days of Christmas.”

A tiny, shy smile appeared on his face, and he lifted a hand to cup her cheek. “Are there French hens, Rey?”

“No.” She leaned down, lips almost meeting his. “But maybe some feathers.”


	13. between the lines: sisterly concern

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after [between the lines](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26518300/chapters/64633624). 
> 
> TW for a reylo baby. 

They had exchanged a handful of polite letters, but it was not until the first winter after Rose’s wedding that she actually met her sister by marriage face to face, and then only because Horatia (in a way only a mother could) had declared that the court could do without their new queen for a short time. “My first grandchild has come into the world,” she had reminded Finn when he brought up the coming midwinter feast and all that entailed. “We’ll be home before the festivities.”

“I would enjoy meeting my niece, too,” Finn had grumbled, but had agreed just the same- and the night before they left, after tucking a few extra gifts for the happy family into Rose’s bags, had loved her into pleasing distraction and murmured a wistful “I’ll miss you” into her hair. 

“I’ll miss you, too,” had been her whispered response. 

He was sweet, her husband. Rose had never expected to find love in a marriage of state but she had found it in Finn, and found love of a different kind in the family that came with him: Horatia, who treated her as a daughter and respected her as a queen and person; Poe, who teased as an older brother ought; Ben, who looked so very imposing but was the softest of them all, happy with his books and as willing to dance with the wallflowers as he was to look after a motherless clutch of kittens. She had been sorry to see him off to Exegol, worried at his state on his dramatic return, and guardedly comforted by the light-hearted tone of his letters since. 

She wasn’t entirely sure of his wife, even knowing that Finn and Horatia approved. Letters could hide so much, and the story sounded like something out of folklore (“Horns?” she had asked Finn disbelievingly after he returned from Alderaan, and the quick sketch he rendered for her had not satisfied her curiosity). Added to that was Poe’s own unexpected marriage to Ben’s former intended and the matter became very complex, indeed, though at least a war was no longer in the offing. 

There was a great deal to be cheerful about on that point alone, she decided as Alderaan came into view, and approved of the lovely manor on sight, capped as it was with snow and surrounded by white fields. The faces that greeted them were cheerful, and Ben smiled as he kissed both their cheeks. “They’re inside,” he said as he ushered them into the great hall (and it was tidy and well-cared for, Rose noted, hearing happy voices and distant laughter). “Rey intended to greet you, but Shmi is so small… I want them both to stay warm,” he added in a low voice, cheeks flushed by something other than cold. 

_He loves her,_ Rose thought as she followed brother and mother by marriage down a tapestried hall, more as a reminder in the event Rey turned out to be dreadful than a revelation. 

_He loves her,_ she thought with more certainty when his expression shifted to a veritable glow on entering a cozy solar, where a woman (who bore only a slight resemblance to Finn’s sketch) with beautiful loops of braids caught up with pearl-tipped pins sat without decorum on a rug beside a cooing, kicking baby. 

She looked up, this Rey- she could only be Rey, with those curving horns- and her eyes went directly to Ben, face soft and mouth tipped in a deeply contented smile. 

_Ah,_ Rose thought, doubt dispelled in that one moment alone. _She loves him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't work it in but at some point Raisa has definitely written Rey a letter that includes this line: 
> 
> _I do not regret marrying Poe but he has been terrible for my reputation; just yesterday I threatened someone with execution and not a soul quavered as they ought._


	14. take this weight (shared is halved): the longest night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set at some point after the end of [take this weight (shared is halved)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22233667/chapters/53088991). No spoilers unless you count both Ben and Rey surviving to be a spoiler (which I don't 😉). 

The snow was an excuse- they couldn’t possibly leave, not yet, not safely, or so they told everyone who asked- and Rey’s sleepy smile was the secret reason behind the excuse. She sprawled over the bed in their quarters, limbs lax and hair loose and long against the dark sheets. “Tell me again,” she murmured as he paid homage to the freckles on her face, a kiss for each and every one. 

“The longest night of the year.” Outside the walls fires blazed, the locals drinking and dancing, but inside it was just the pair of them offering up praise to the dark sky lit by stars and two moons. “Once, they never knew if the sun would return.”

She hummed under her breath, tracing the line of his jaw with one fingertip. “Like the sandstorms.” Rey squirmed closer, skin warm against his own. “Huddling under my blanket as the wind raged.”

“Yes.” The plate of delicacies he had prepared was out of reach, but he sensed that Rey was satiated for that moment, at least when it came to her stomach. She curved into him, waiting for a story. “They prayed to the sun,” he murmured, pressing a few more kisses to the bits of gold scattered over her cheeks. “They stayed up until the dawn, every year, keeping the fires lit.”

“And still do.”

“And still do.” Aroused- she was so kriffing sweet, his wife, and so beautiful with her lashes fluttering lazily- he covered her body with his own, tickling the outside of one thigh. “Would you like to go outside?”

“No.” Her fingers swept up his back, dancing in the dip between his shoulder blades. “I have a fire right here.”

“Can you tend it all night long, sweetheart?”

She nipped at his lower lip, and when he laughed shoved with her own strength and the Force and flipped him onto his back. He settled, more than happy to have her on top of him for as long as she pleased. “Well,” Rey said with a smile, a gleam in her eyes, “we’re here for a few more days, at least.”

“Yes.”

“And there is a _very_ sturdy lock on the door.”

He did not look in that direction, but the old-fashioned padlock had given them both a moment of merriment, on arrival. “Yes.”

“So perhaps I keep this fire stoked, and then let it keep me warm as I indulge in a very needed rest.” She planted her hands against his shoulders, the fire gem she wore swinging forward. “If you can stay awake?” 

Rey would curl up with him, if he pled fatigue. She would press herself up against his back, her constellation of freckles imprinting against his skin and the fire gem drawing warmth from both their bodies. She would hum against the nape of his neck, one leg hitched over his hip as they both slid into sleep. 

“I think I can stay awake till dawn,” he said softly, and she bent to capture his mouth with her own. 

They did not sleep until the sky was pinkish-gold, and when they did it was with limbs tangled together and whispered words, the ghost of laughter in the air. 

The sun rose again, and again, and again on that little planet and on their marriage, bright rays spilling into each and every season.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had such a wonderful time writing this collection. Thank you all for reading, and for your comments and kudos and bookmarks!


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